


Baby It's Cold Outside

by kototyph



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Snowed In - Cliche, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No offense, Mish," Jensen says, "but sometimes I feel like I'm endangering my virtue just sitting next to you on the couch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_refrain](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=still_refrain).



> For [spn-j2-xmas](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/). Prompt: "J2(M) bed sharing"

God, the mountains are gorgeous. It might be the coldest reception Jensen's ever attended, and the poor bridesmaids were probably freezing their pretty little asses off the entire time, but he can't blame Steve for wanting to get married up here— the views down into the valleys are amazing, the white peaks cresting majestically above the treeline and rolling on in every direction around them, the air clear and sun blindingly bright.

Well, it _was_ blindingly bright, right up until the clouds rolled off the slopes and buried the guest cabins in a few feet of snow.

"Christ, we'll be here 'til May," he says, leaning on the windowsill, empty shot glass dangling from his fingers. Drifts have blown up almost to the height of the glass, and the path Matt, Richard and Mark had plowed wading back to their own cabins is completely gone. From here to the evergreens and aspen ringing the cabin, there's only a smooth white blanket of fresh, undisturbed powder.

"I vote we eat Jared first," Misha says, pushing his poker chips forward with the careful deliberateness of the very tipsy. He seems to be focused, now that everyone's gone but the three of them, on building a small cairn of the plastic discs in the middle of the table. "He'll take the most effort to keep alive."

"Hey," Jared protests, big body hanging off both ends of the loveseat. He's got his cards fanned out over his chest and is still wearing most of his tux, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and tie thrown over one of the armrests. At least two of the half-dozen bottles of liquor on the floor are empty because of him; they'd instituted a rule early on that Jay had to take two shots for every one they did to counter his monstrous tolerance, and if the dazed glassy smile on his face is anything to go by it worked like a charm.

"Yeah, but you'd be easier to roast in the fireplace," Jensen says, and Misha snorts.

"Fire," Jared slurs, craning his head back towards the grate where their sad attempt to build one has barely charred a couple logs. "S' going out," and then there's a mess of uncoordinated wiggling and kicking as he struggles to roll off the sofa.

"Whoa there, cowboy, you'll—"

Jared falls on his face with a thump and a pained groan, knocking into the legs of the collapsible table, and Jensen laughs as the whole thing comes tumbling down and showers Misha in cards and chips.

"Damn it, I was building the Eiffel Tower," Misha sighs, brushing them off his lap.

"Sorry," Jared mumbles into the pine-green carpet.

It takes both of them to get Jay to his feet and staggering towards the bedroom, where two beds are crammed in sideways and one, Jensen discovers, has been liberally doused in what smells like cherries and whipped cream vodka. Fucking Richard and his character bleed.

They wobble over to the other and with a little nudging Jared topples like a felled redwood, leaving Jensen and Misha to pull back the bedspread and wrestle off the minimum amount of clothing necessary for comfortable sleeping while he giggles drowsily at the ceiling.

Scratch that— Jensen is obeying drunk-bro etiquette to the letter here, no question, but Misha's going a step further, peeling off Jared's undershirt with a bit too much gratuitous touching and then unbuttoning and stepping out of his own pants.

Jensen gives him a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Misha gives him an "oh, please," look and tosses his shirt on the bed that smells like alcoholic Shirley Temples. "I know you can do the math, Jen," he says over his shoulder as he crawls in after Jared, who latches on and drags him in like a hungry boa constrictor. "One bed, three— urgh, little too tight, Jare— dudes."

"One couch," Jensen points out.

Misha shrugs as best he can with six-foot-five of Texan wound around him like a limpet. "There's room. It'll be warmer, too."

"Yeah, no offense, Mish," Jensen says, leaning down to pick up the discarded suitcoats and slacks, "but sometimes I feel like I'm endangering my virtue just sitting next to you on the couch. I'll pass."

"Mish-Mish," Jared mumbles, nuzzling into Misha's messy thatch of hair. "Y'can endager m'vitue anytime."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Misha tells him, giving him a peck on the cheek before reaching down to pull the thick flannel sheets up and over them. "Suit yourself, Jen. G'night."

"Night," Jared murmurs into the crown of Misha's head.

With the unsettling impression he's just been sexiled, Jensen hangs the clothes over a handy chair and returns to the main room of the cabin, retiring to the musty pillows and cramped confines of the loveseat.

* * *

Jensen wakes up around three o'clock in the morning almost too cold to move. He has all of the crochet quilts from the pine cabinet in the corner cocooned around him and he's still shaking, curled into the smallest ball he can manage and not fall off the sofa with his teeth chattering like crazy. Fuck the mountains, okay? Mountains are so not worth this.

Getting up and shuffling off to the bedroom is like mounting an arctic expedition. "M-move the hell over," he stutters at Misha, who looks perfectly cozy half-buried under Jared's lightly snoring bulk.

"Poor baby," the man yawns, shoving at Jared's shoulder until he shifts away, blinking sleepily up at Jensen. "Here, come lay in the middle, it'll be warmer."

"I don't—" But Jay's already reaching out and pulling Jensen down into the narrow divot between their bodies, squashing Jensen deep into the mattress when he rolls back with a contented sigh.

Jensen means to protest, or at least warn Misha off any below-the-belt molestation while he's unconscious, but oh God he's almost forgotten what heat feels like and he clings to them instead, Jared humming happily as he presses up against Jensen's back, Misha hooking a leg over his knee and turning his face into Jensen's chest.

Three large men should not be able to fit this comfortably on a queen-sized mattress, but Jensen's barely had the thought before he's sinking deep into sleep, Jared's breath in his ear the last thing he registers before it all disappears into sweet, warm oblivion.

* * *

Jensen's a heavy sleeper. He knows this. So does most of the crew. It's not exactly a secret, and Jay and Misha have used it against him before: whipped cream, warm bowls of water, sharpie marker, prosthetic facial hair; they've done all of that and worse when he's had the bad judgment to fall asleep around them.

"Morning, Je-en," Misha moans, voice cracking as his hips sink down flush with Jensen's, a smooth, almost frictionless glide, and Jensen's eyes are shooting wide and going blind before he's even really conscious. Apparently his dick has been awake a little longer than the rest of him, though, because he's suddenly two seconds from coming and Christ, it's so— hot, almost sloppy-wet, Misha's ass clutching at him like a velvet vise and it's all he can do to swallow a startled yelp and hang on.

"What the— _fuck,"_ he starts on gasp, and then arches back against the sheets as Misha starts to move, a sinuous mind-melting grind that has his eyes rolling back in his head and his hands clamping down hard on those rocking hips.

From further down the bed someone gives a low, winded-sounding laugh, and hands join Jensen's where they're pressing bruises into Misha's skin, sliding over his fingers to smooth lower down Misha's trembling thighs, just skirting his red, weeping cock where it slaps against his belly with each shallow thrust.

"Morning, Jen," Jared echoes hoarsely, mouthing up Misha's neck, and Misha lets his head drop back on Jared's shoulder with a bitten-off groan.

"No, wha— ngh, shit, _shit_ ," and how the hell is Jensen supposed to manage any kind of coherency when he can feel Jared push forward between his splayed legs like a promise, when Misha's moaning like a porn star and scratching thin, white-hot lines down his chest, when Jared's tucking an arm around Misha's waist and bouncing him on Jensen's dick like it's some kind of fucking pogo stick?

"Shhh," Jared says huskily, maybe to Jensen and maybe to Misha, whose eyes have gone blurry and a little wild, whose voice is hitting a new note of urgency as the pace picks up and Jensen's hips pump of their own accord into his tight sucking heat. "Got you, baby, yeah, ride 'im just like that—"

The view is amazing, Misha's head tipped up, throat working on a swallow, chest gleaming with sweat in the weak winter sunlight, shoving back hard into each thrust Jensen gives him— but Jensen has no leverage or he'd be giving him the dicking of his _life_ , would be— would be, God, fucking the living _hell_ out of him, so good, so good, _Misha_ —

Jared's free hand drifts lower and Misha makes a sound like he's been struck, hunching forward as Jared finally gets that big hand wrapped around him, a few quick jerks to make his hips stutter out of rhythm.

Jensen catches him around the neck and pulls him all the way down, crushing Misha to him so he can finally get a taste that gasping mouth, drag even more fucked-out and desperate noises from those slack lips. Trapped between them, Jared's knuckles drag against the tender skin just south of Jensen's bellybutton and the sensation is unexpectedly ticklish. He lets out a huff of laughter that Jared returns as he pulls back to watch them, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

Jensen's too far gone to have qualms about giving him a show, feeling the stretch in his back and legs as his hips snap up, again, and again, working to find the right angle until Misha's eyes fall half-closed over dark, blown pupils, fingers digging in hard at Jensen's shoulders as he grits out a throaty, _"Fuck,_ Jensen, like that, yes—"

"Fuck yeah," Jensen says, and starts to fuck up into Misha in earnest.

God, if he'd known Misha could sound like this, all low purrs and encouraging moans in between kisses so drugging and deep they made Jensen's head spin and his jaw ache, he would have let Misha's wandering fingers get a whole hell of a lot further so much earlier. Jensen's hands slip down to grip his ass, lift him a little higher and Misha's back bows up in a perfect obscene curve.

A few more thrusts and Misha gives a sudden wracking shudder, Jared settling his chin over Misha's shoulder to smile wickedly down at Jensen. Sneaky bastard, probably doing something to—

Fingers slide snugly around the base of Jensen's dick, rough scrape of calluses pressing briefly into the soft underside of his sack and up, and it's like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky. Jensen head drops back on a breathy grunt and Misha bites at his throat, fingers combing through Jensen's hair and twisting there.

God _damn_ , he's known Jay for years, met all his girlfriends and most of his one-night-stands, and how has no one mentioned before now that the man has magic fingers? They're stroking along Misha's clinging rim, stretched tight and slick around the girth of Jensen's cock, and Misha's making heady little "Ah, ah," noises in Jensen's ear as Jared works the tip of one inside. On Jensen's next uneven shove upwards it just sinks right in, all the way up to the last knuckle, and he and Misha both moan for it.

"Yeah?" Jared pants, draped over Misha's back so that his weight presses Misha and Jensen deeper into the sheets. "Could do this—could work you open even more, Mish, took my cock sweet as anything, took Jensen's even sweeter—bet you could take both, whadya think?"

Misha makes a choked, disbelieving little noise into Jensen's shoulder and tightens up to the point of pain around his cock and Jared's finger, knees digging in to Jensen's sides, hands fisting in his hair hard enough to hurt.

"God, gonna," he says with a shattered edge like he's dying, and then he's coming untouched, smearing it wet and filthy all over their chests and stomachs.

Jensen gulps for air as he fucks Misha through it, until the man is spread loose and open over and around him and then, fuck, then Jared is sinking in a second finger and stroking along his dick _inside of him_ and Jensen's just gone, orgasm hitting him like a slow-blooming explosion, Misha thready whimper blending with his own growled " _Fuck!_ "

It's a slow burn that rides the pulsing edge of Jared's fingers, and he keeps up the slick push and pull until Jensen smacks his thigh where it's still pressed to the inside of his knee. "D-dude!" he hitches out, twitching and oversensitive.

"Sorry," Jared says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. He sounds strung out and spun up, rubbing an impressive erection in between Misha's cheeks, along the point where Jensen's come is starting to leak out around his dick and yeah, they can probably take care of that.

Jensen slips out and Jared slots in, Misha purring out something gravelly and profane and sinking his teeth into Jensen's neck, lazily moving his hips back into Jared's quick, graceless bucks until the man's shuddering above them, lips parting around a soft, stunned, " _Christ!"_

* * *

It takes some maneuvering to get them all out of the wet spots and back under the covers, especially with Jared being less than useless in a fumbling, post-orgasmic haze and Misha now mostly asleep, smiling the smile of the truly well-fucked and smug about it.

"So, are you trying to kill me?" Jensen asks conversationally, running his fingers through Jared's hair and shifting to accommodate Misha's groggily determined burrowing into his side. "Because 'during a surprise threesome' is actually pretty high up on my list of ways I'd want to go."

Jared mutters something about peanuts and scorpions being less complicated and settles in with a sigh. Misha pats his stomach a few times and leaves his hand there, breath coming slow and easy against Jensen's arm.

"We _are_ going to talk about this," Jensen says around a yawn. Morning light is filtering in through the curtains on the east wall, pooling on the sheets twisted around them. "I mean it."

"Sh'up," Jared orders. "Sleep now."

"Nmph," Misha agrees.

Jensen rolls his eyes, but he pulls them both a little closer before letting himself relax back into his pillow.

After all, there's a good chance his next wake-up call might be just as dirty-hot as the last one, and that's something he doesn't want to miss.

**Author's Note:**

> No, don't look at me like that, I have it on good authority it is still the 25th on the smaller islands of Russia's Kamchatka peninsula. Or Mars.


End file.
